Dangerous Desires

by Louise Clark

  There was a split second when no one moved. Nicholas still held Stephanie tightly within his embrace, his mouth still demanding, drawing a response from her clinging lips. Madeleine stood, suddenly feeling like an intruder, but firm in the rightness of her decision to remain. She had begun to wonder, a little desperately, if she would have to tap her nephew on the shoulder to get his attention, when he lifted his head and allowed Stephanie to wiggle from the circle of his arms, her cheeks flaming. Madeleine faced his wrathful gaze and watched, a little sadly, as conscience and guilt took ire's place.

  "Aunt," he said at last, clearing his throat. He looked over at Stephanie, who had gone to the windows that faced the garden at the back of the house. Her bowed back was toward them, but he could see that she was holding her hands over her hot cheeks, embarrassment and shame evident in each trembling breath she took.

  At the sight of her, Nicholas abandoned his initial intention of trying to explain the situation to Madeleine. "This is ridiculous," he said instead, striding over to Stephanie. Turning her, he took her hands. "Sweet Stephanie, there is no need for you to blame yourself. The fault, if there is one, is entirely mine. I meant to comfort you, but I did not. I am sorry."

  A small ironic smile quirked her lips. Very softly, so that only he could hear, she said, "I was comforted, Nicholas." Their gazes met and clung. The atmosphere heated up once more.

  Though sanity was on the edge of escaping, Nicholas took a deep breath and managed to capture it once more. "We are not alone," he muttered forcefully. "Damnation!"

  Stephanie laughed, her momentary shame cleansed by his thoughtfulness. "Having a chaperon does have a dampening effect, does it not?" She flashed him a tenderly wicked smile. "I cannot allow you to monopolize all of my time, Milord. Permit me to greet Tante Madeleine."

  "Are you sure, Stephanie? I can—"

  She drew her hands from his and gently silenced him with a light touch of her fingers to his lips.

  "Once again you have protected me from my own impulsiveness. Why should I be ashamed of what we have just shared when you are not?" She moved past him to greet the Countess without flinching. "Bonjour, Tante Madeleine. You are not usually up this early."

  "Perhaps it is a good thing I am," Madeleine said, carefully choosing her words. "Should tidings of this get about, Stephanie, your reputation would be ruined."

  "How can any damage be done when only we three know of it?" Nicholas demanded. He added pointedly, "I would certainly never gossip or risk my lady's good name."

  Madeleine caught the possessive note in his voice and relaxed. "Yes, of course. I did not doubt you, Nicholas. It is just that I am concerned for Stephanie, and you know how rumor abounds in London."

  Stephanie said deliberately, "Do not fear for my honor, Tante Madeleine. I willingly accepted Milord's embrace."

  "Very well, I can see that you are both to be blamed for today's incident. All I ask is that in the future, you do not allow your emotions to override your good sense."

  "That goes without saying," Nicholas retorted, rather grimly. He knew his aunt had every right to deliver to them both a long lecture, and she was being remarkably forbearing, but mild as they were, her comments were not easy to swallow.

  A dimple peeped into life as Stephanie's expression turned mischievous. "Vraiment, are not the French the most rational of people, Tante Madeleine? And am I not a Frenchwoman born? You may rely on me absolutely!"

  Madeleine said ruefully, "That is exactly what I am afraid of."

  As Stephanie began to laugh, Nicholas realized that he would do anything to keep the teasing smile on her face and the mischief in her eyes. Anything at all.

  * * *

  The Duchesse d'Arden waved her fan in a deceptively lazy manner while her sharp gaze lingered on the smiling face of Stephanie de la Riviére, who listened with amusement to something Tony Baxter was saying. "En bien," the Duchesse said, envious of the security of Stephanie's position, of her youth, of her vivid enjoyment of life. "Is it not reassuring to know that there are those among us who have not a care in the world?"

  The lady beside the Duchesse laughed with true appreciation. Regine de Trouville's questionable predecessors would never have passed muster at court when Louis reigned in Versailles, but in these troubled times she had made a place for herself in the desperately insecure émigré community. Like her sometime lover and business partner, the Vicomte de St. Luc, she had gained from the revolution, not lost.

  "La belle Stephanie is little more than a child," Regine protested with spurious concern, fiddling with the fan secured to her wrist by a golden cord. The fragile trinket of ivory and cream silk made a nice contrast to the pomona green taffeta of her chemise gown. The fabric in turn brought out the auburn highlights in her hair. Regine was not usually one to bother with the old-fashioned habit of powdering her hair for a ball. "Can one blame her if she succumbs to the pleasures her father made sure she must forgo while she lived in Paris?"

  The Duchesse raised one carefully plucked brow.

  Unlike her friend, she was most formally attired. Her satin polonaise gown was a soft blue-gray with a lustrous petticoat of indigo embroidered with silver. Diamonds glittered at her throat; a patch tantalized at the corner of her mouth, and her hair was powdered to the purest white. She epitomized the style and elegance of the old regime. "Mont Royale is a man of honor. I have known him for years and the man is incorruptible. It saddens me to think his daughter is not made of equally strong fiber."

  A gleam of unholy pleasure shone in de Trouville's cold brown eyes, a gleam which she quickly quenched. Since making her acquaintance, she had found the Duchesse to be an excellent, unsuspecting source of information. The woman knew everyone who was anyone in the émigré community, and not a few of the powerful elite in English society. Moreover, she was not averse to confiding in those she trusted, and her trust was easily gained. Not only was St. Luc able to use the rumors Regine coaxed from the Duchesse, but Regine herself found unobtrusive ways of using what she had learned to pad her pocketbook and smooth her path.

  "The Marquis would be disappointed in his daughter's conduct then?" Regine pitched her voice to indicate only a dubious interest in the conversation.

  The Duchesse flicked her fan shut with an irritable click. "Disappointed? A mild word for the shame the man would feel." She stared moodily at the unsuspecting Stephanie for a minute longer, then apparently came to a decision. "If you will excuse me, Madame de Trouville? I owe it to my old friend, Monsieur de Mont Royale, to speak to his daughter."

  Regine opened her eyes wide in an expression that was only half exaggerated. "You intend to publicly chastise Mademoiselle de la Riviére? Pardon, Madame, mais..."

  The Duchesse spread open her fan with an almost flirtatious twist of her wrist. "You do not think my credit will allow it? Je vous assure, Madame de Trouville, I can bear the cost." She smiled chillingly and swept across the floor.

  "Mon Dieu," Regine de Trouville said, stifling a laugh. "St. Luc would adore this. Where is the dreadful man? How dare he miss such excitement!"

  The Duchesse had reached Stephanie and Tony and was begging Stephanie to introduce her to her oh-so-handsome English companion. "It is so comforting to see one of my countrywomen settling into our new way of life," she added, smiling as she spoke.

  Stephanie introduced Tony and Madame d'Arden, but at the same time she wondered why the Duchesse had suddenly approached her. She did not have to wait long to find out.

  "I find the gaiety of young people so refreshing," the Duchesse continued, fanning herself languidly as she scrutinized Stephanie's elegant gown of dove gray silk over a white petticoat. Her mouth tightened as she realized she could find no fault with the younger woman's appearance. "Such high spirits make one realize how trivial the concerns and fears of adults are."

  Tony raised the quizzing glass he wore around his neck on a black ribbon. "I cannot believe you ever indulge in trivialities, Duchesse. I am sure your every concern is of m
omentous proportions."

  Flushing at the mockery in his voice, the Duchesse said imperiously, "Impertinent young man!" Switching to French to effectively shut Tony out of the conversation she continued, "Mademoiselle, have you heard that the revolutionary government has had the audacity to declare war on Austria?"

  Stephanie had indeed heard, for Nicholas had drawn her aside two evenings before and told her the not yet widely known news. She was grateful for his consideration now, although at the time, she had been numb with shock. "I have heard, Madame la Duchesse. I am as appalled as you are."

  The Duchesse opened her eyes wide. "Appalled? Whatever can you mean, Mademoiselle? These are wonderful tidings! The Emperor will finally destroy those dreadful canaille in Paris and we can all return home." Catching sight of Nicholas, handsomely clad in a royal blue coat laced with white, and a white waistcoat and breeches, threading his way toward them, she added spitefully, "Although I can understand why you would be reluctant to believe in anything that might draw you away from the comfortably wicked life you would never have had the opportunity to lead, were you still in France."

  Stephanie tensed and her eyes began to sparkle with the light of battle. Beside her, Tony Baxter watched helplessly, realizing that Stephanie was under attack, but unable to follow the swift conversation. He was relieved when Nicholas joined them. An ally, especially one as formidable as his cousin, was welcome at this point.

  "Pray explain that remark, Madame," Stephanie said curtly. She sensed Nicholas's presence nearby and was heartened, but she knew he could not help her win this particular skirmish.

  "In France, your father has the reputation of being a man of painfully upright principles," the Duchesse said pointedly. "What would he think of a daughter who attends gaming clubs of ill repute?"

  "Madame la Duchesse, how pleasant to make your acquaintance once more," Nicholas said, deliberately interrupting. His blue eyes were pale with a cold fury that made the Duchesse falter and forget the stinging set down she had planned. "I have come to lead Mademoiselle de la Riviére onto the dance floor. If you will excuse us?" He caught Stephanie's hand. She squeezed it gently, then let it lie passively on his, as propriety demanded.

  Before they turned away, she said in English, "You asked, Madame, what my father would think of a daughter who attends gaming clubs of ill repute? The answer, I think, is a good deal more than he would think of a woman who befriends the proprietress of one of those houses of ill repute. Good evening, Madame." She swept a low, mocking curtsy before turning away.

  "A moment, Mademoiselle!" The note of dismay in the Duchesse's voice made Stephanie pause and look back. "Pray, explain further," the Duchesse said in French to preserve what was left of her dignity. "Who exactly are you speaking of?"

  "Why, your dear friend, Regine de Trouville, Madame. She was introduced to me as the owner of the gaming house the first night I went there. Your name was used to prove the ultimate respectability of the place." Beside her, Nicholas stiffened, but Stephanie was too immersed in the tiny victory she had just scored to notice.

  Tony Baxter did notice, though. Stephanie had spoken in French and whatever she had said, Nicholas had obviously understood, meaning that he knew the language far better than he was willing to let on. Tony added this fascinating clue to his little store of unexplained incidents, and not for the first time, he wondered just what his cousin was up to.

  * * *

  The carriage rattled along the cobblestones, the cab swaying with the unevenness of its surface. Stephanie clutched the leather strap hanging from the wall as she stared moodily out at the darkened street. Beside her, Madeleine was discussing the evening in a desultory way with her nephew, who was seated across from them, his long legs stretched out, his hands thrust negligently into the pockets of his frock coat. Stephanie knew that he occasionally cast a brooding look in her direction, but she did not feel up to discussing the night's activities right then. Reaction to the gleeful joy with which the news that France was at war with Austria had been greeted was setting in, and, more importantly to Stephanie, the realization that her attempt to raise money to help her father might have hurt him more than the revolutionaries could have done.

  "Stephanie, did the Duchesse d'Arden truly accuse you of attending an illegal gaming house?" Madeleine demanded, incensed.

  "She used the term 'ill repute'," Stephanie said with a grim little smile.

  "Indeed," Madeleine said frostily. "Then I shall give her no more than a nod in passing from now on. Imagine the nerve of the woman! Who does she think she is?"

  "A Duchesse of France," Stephanie said with a sigh. "She is certain she will soon be back in Paris, or more likely, Versailles, for she cannot believe that the revolutionaries will not be trounced by the Emperor's forces."

  "She could be right," Nicholas said, watching Stephanie's face in the flickering light of the passing lanterns. "From all accounts, the French army is in a state of chaos, for most of the officers were aristocrats who deserted their posts as the revolution grew more radical."

  "The revolutionaries have the strength of their fanatical beliefs to buoy them up," Stephanie countered impatiently. "Why do people not have eyes to see? You, Milord, at least have the excuse of being an Englishman! But even my countrymen, who should realize that this declaration of war is dangerous, seem to be oblivious to the truth of it!"

  "Truth," the Dowager Countess observed, "is not the immutable force it is supposed to be. Every side has a truth and every truth is valid—to those who believe in it. Truth has caused much pain in the past. I expect it will continue to do so in the future."

  Nicholas's mouth quirked. "Despite the disadvantage of my nationality, I will venture to say that your countrymen are perhaps more removed from the reality of this declaration of war than you might think. How will a war between France and Austria affect them, except in the outcome? They have cut their ties with France and are not concerned with its fate."

  The little puff of anger that had sustained Stephanie dissipated. Sadly, but shrewdly, she said, "Perhaps if they had indeed ceased to care for their homeland, they would be more compassionate. Their pleasure in this war smacks of a bitter delight based on the hatred they feel toward the rebels. They expect to see a failure. Indeed, they require a crushing defeat to prove that the revolutionaries are wrong." She added gloomily, "But I do not think Austria will defeat France."

  Nicholas didn't think the Emperor's forces would be triumphant either, yet he did not want to upset Stephanie further. "Here in England, there is not a great deal anyone can do to influence events in France."

  "It is that very powerlessness that disturbs me the most," Stephanie said softly. "In France, my family has always served the Crown." She shrugged. "In such service, the ability to mold events becomes second nature. I would not have influenced the King directly, you understand, but my Papa..." Her voice wavered, then resumed more strongly. "My Papa did—does—and the man I married would have been equally prestigious. I do not like this feeling of being without influence. I do not like it at all!"

  Across from her Nicholas tensed. Was this the predominant quality Stephanie de la Riviére wanted in a man? he wondered. The possibility was strangely chilling, even though his parents had been joined in just such a marriage of rank and convenience. That sort of alliance was traditional amongst members of the nobility on both sides of the Channel, so he should not have been surprised to hear Stephanie voicing the same principle, but he had formed an image of her as being impulsive, impetuous and passionate—attributes which were hardly compatible with the cold-blooded union she was describing.

  The man I married would have been equally prestigious. Not, he thought with grim amusement, an English nobleman, happier managing his estates than guiding the government in London. He wondered what Stephanie would think if she knew what he had really been doing while he was supposed to be rusticating on his lands. Then he asked himself why it should matter to him exactly what she did think of him.

 
; After all, Stephanie de la Riviére was merely the very attractive decoy he and Gideon were using to hoodwink the despicable St. Luc while he was under observation. Was she not?

  Madeleine, who had been ruminating silently while Stephanie and Nicholas talked, said, "If the Duchesse d'Arden actually had the audacity to accost you this evening, Stephanie, you can be sure that others are whispering the same spiteful remarks that she said aloud."

  Stephanie sighed. "Alas, chére Tante Madeleine, I fear that you are correct. I noticed several worthy ladies staring at me, then laughing behind their fans tonight. I have become a pariah." She looked out the window and said, as if to the passing scene, "When I first thought of going to the gaming club, I planned to wear a mask, but St. Luc persuaded me it would be gauche to do so, and I abandoned the idea." She turned back to Nicholas and Madeleine. "Can it be that the Vicomte deliberately wished to shame me?"

  "The man is a viper," Madeleine said indignantly. "I would put nothing past him."

  "Nor would I." Contempt laced Nicholas's deep voice. Stephanie thought that the Vicomte would do well to avoid putting himself in a position where he was in need of the Earl's goodwill. She was quite certain he would never have it.

  "I always adore the Season for the first few weeks, but soon I am longing for a respite." Madeleine sent a pointed glance at the Earl. "With the weather moderating, a few days in the country would not come amiss. What do you think, Stephanie?"

  The carriage lurched over a pothole, providing Stephanie with a moment to collect her thoughts before she replied. A few weeks in the country would allow the minor scandal of a Marquis's daughter attending a crooked gambling den to be surpassed by some new sensation. Moreover, the lure of the peaceful countryside was tantalizing.